Stefen's Story
by Gildaurel
Summary: Stefen's life after Vanyel dies  spans decades . Contains Jisa and Stefen perspectives and tells how he earned the right to join Vanyel in Sorrows. All characters and the Valdemar universe belong to Mercedes Lackey. Reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

Jisa wrapped Stefen in a fiercely protective hug that belied her rather delicate frame. "Gods, Stef, we weren't sure you were coming back," she said before pulling back.

His gaze, clearer than it had been in the months before his disappearance to Sorrows, met hers apologetically. "I wasn't planning to."

She sighed and placed a hand on his cheek. "I know none of us can understand your pain, love. But Trev and I are incredibly glad you made the choice to stay with us."

He managed a crooked smile. "It wasn't entirely my choice."

Jisa let that cryptic remark sit in silence for a moment. Stefen had arrived at the palace an hour ago and she had immediately begged leave of the late-night council meeting to meet him in his quarters. _At that point, they were simply too tired to realize they were back to arguing the same point we'd resolved two hours ago. Stubborn old men, the lot of them_

"Stef, what happened up there?" she asked quietly. "After you left, I spent a month tracing who you'd seen, where you'd been. I found out about the argonel. I sent Guardsmen at top speed, but they never found a hint of your passing. They said they couldn't even get past the outer border of Sorrows without wanting to jump out of their own skin. I'd just about given up hope when they sent me word you'd passed Haven's gates a candlemark ago-" she paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself- "and I haven't felt so grateful, eternally grateful to whatever force kept you alive, in my life."

Bowing his head, Stefen murmured, "I'm sorry, Jisa. I truly am. But I just couldn't- can't- imagine life without him. I don't think I'll ever be able to."

_Life without Treven… no, I couldn't imagine. I would do the same._ She sent out a tendril of Empathic forgiveness to Stefen. "I'm just glad you're here."

He looked at her in wordless thanks. Then he truly looked at her, and a slight frown creased his forehead. "Not that you need to hear how hard it is for me. Do you even have time to eat, or do Council meetings devour every moment of free time?"

She shrugged dismissively. "We all do what we must, Stef. That simply means ten times as much with… Uncle Van gone."

"You can call him Father, I know." Her eyes widened. "He told me."

"I haven't told anyone- not even Trev- " She could feel the tears coming and swallowed hard.

"Oh, Jisa," he said, his expression softening. A tear slid past her control. "You've been carrying that grief all alone?" This time he gathered her in his arms. She shook, once, and then straightened. "He loved you so, so much. He could barely stand to leave you here, with so much to shoulder… he would have given anything to stay here and help you through this."

"I know," she whispered, half to herself. "I know he would have." She paused. "There won't ever be anyone quite like him again, will there?"

Stefen shook his head mutely.

_I probably didn't need to remind him of that. Ah, Van; we're all a bit lost without you, aren't we? But you'd be the first to shake us awake to the living friends who need us so very badly._

"Well, I'll let you get settled in- I've had a bath drawn, and you know you can ring for anything else you need-"

"Just a bit of dinner, whatever's left, and a night's rest will set all aright, " he replied.

Jisa looked at him doubtfully, but acquiesced with a nod. Exiting his room, she turned, hand on the doorknob, "And Stef—

He looked up.

"If you need to talk, I'm here. To unload, to grieve, or simply to remember…" Again, she opened up a channel to him, sending him a wordless wave of love, "…I'm here."

"Thank you," he said, and meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

The Monarch's quarters were empty when she finally weaved her way back across the grounds from Bardic, fatigued but heart-whole. _Whatever happened in that forest, we don't have to worry about Stef haring off on some suicide mission again. I could Sense the healing. _She frowned. She'd sensed something else, too, something when she mentioned the guardsmen in Sorrows, but—

_He can keep his secrets. He's earned them._

Flopping into her chair, she pulled off her plain brown boots and threw them across the room.

:Feeling better, Chosen?: Taver mindspoke, hints of blue relief washing his mind-voice.

:Loads: She replied. :I would have been devastated—utterly devastated—to lose Stef.:

:We all would have. Haven is a better place with him in it.:

:The world is a better place with him in it:, Jisa replied absently, thinking of the months before Vanyel's death. :I wonder if he'll ever be anything like his old self again.:

:Don't count on it, love. But he'll get better, with time.:

_Time, _she thought, sending a quick good night to Taver. _The thing none of us have enough of._

Just then, a rustle at the door interrupted her musings. Looking up, she saw a crown of thick gold hair half-tumbling into worried blue eyes.

"Have you finally been released?" she said light-heartedly, miming unlocking handcuffs.

He chuckled and shut the door, some of the worry dissipating. "Alas, yes, despite my dire crimes."

"Indeed? And what might those be?"

"Being elected Heir-presumptive against my wildest nightmares of succession lines," he replied, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Then actually being crowned King."

She held out her arms from her chair and he crossed the room to fall into them.

"I shall pardon you for a thousand kisses."

"I accept!" he exclaimed, taking the coronet off his head and tossing it onto the fireplace. "Then I am no longer King?"

"No, you're simply the Queen's lowborn lover, part of an indecent, embarrassing affair," she joked back.

"Indecent and embarrassing?" He flipped her over in the chair, so that she was straddling him. "I think we can manage that." 

The next morning saw both of them awake before the sun, drinking mugs of tea with hot bread in relative silence.

Treven interrupted her thoughts. "So he's back, and better?"  
>"Who?"<p>

"Stefen, who else? The subject of our conversation for the past two months."

"Yes! I'm sorry, I was distracted last night..."  
>"As was I," he said with a quick smile. "But I need him—the Crown needs him—for pain-blocking and morale-boosting on the Karsite front."<p>

_Morale boosting, _she muttered internally. _Stefen's not much better than a full-on funeral parade for that right now._

"Give him a few days, love. He's better but he's not the same Stefen. You know that."

Treven met her eyes and held them. "None of us are the same without him. We lived in the time of a legend. How many Heralds and Bards will speak or sing of Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron hundreds of years hence?" he paused, shaking his head wonderingly. "It's begun already; it's almost hard to believe he was a man. But Stef is a strong man too, stronger than he knows. Helping Valdemar and staying busy are the two best things for him right now."

Pondering his words for a moment, Jisa slowly nodded. "I do believe you're right, Trev." _Nothing like the Karsite front to cheer one's spirits! Testament to how truly devastated Stef is that _that_ seems the better option than Haven, with all its memories._


	3. Chapter 3

Surprisingly, Stefen sought them out first, sending a page with a request for an Audience.

"Bard Stefen," Treven greeted him formally.

"Your Majesty," Stefen bowed.

"I was glad to hear of your safe return."

Stefen simply nodded.

"Please phrase your request in front of Crown and court," Treven continued, invoking the formal audience procedure.

Clearly, Stefen appreciated the formality, as he stood straighter and replied:

"I have a project—an important project, bequeathed to me by the late Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron, upon our last meeting together."

Treven's eyes widened, the only part of him showing any reaction, and Jisa thanked the Havens for her facial control. _He's never spoken to any of us about their last moments together._

"Even post-mortem, Herald Vanyel's word holds sway in this Kingdom," Treven said gravely. "We will hear your project."

Inclining his head, Stefen spoke, "He believed that Valdemar suffered from a lack of morale—that we had lost a bit of our identity, our faith in our Heralds and in our purpose. Over the years, the people have come to idolize the notion of magic and believe that we are lost without it."

Murmurs circled around the Court. Stefen thought he heard one: _"And what good's one Bard?"_

Firming his jaw, he continued. "I share Herald Vanyel's opinion. As such, I wish to be assigned to the Karsite border to offer whatever small help a Bard can, in music and voice. Any Bards who wish to join me—who believe in this quest, of sorts, and who believe in Herald Vanyel's words—are more than welcome."

Silence greeted his words, along with more scattered muttering. Jisa and Treven exchanged an unreadable glance, then Treven, favoring him with a slight smile, nodded.

"Bard Stefen, we grant your request. You are hereby assigned to Karsite Border Sector 7, with Healer status. Supplies shall be provided for your journey." Pausing, Treven looked around the Crown room. "Let it be known that the Crown, too, believes in Herald Vanyel's words and the power of this nation's Bards. We back Stefen and any who wish to join him fully."

"Foolishness," one aging Councilor whispered loudly to his neighbor.

Jisa shot him a sharp glance. "You may believe this quest is foolish and unworthy of the crown's time, Lord Redoran, but you are sadly mistaken. Our armies labor under a sky clouded dark with despair in Karse, unable to see even the barest hope of success. Without hope, we can never win this war." Shifting her gaze to Stefen, she let her features relax.

"May the Gods speed your travel, Bard Stefen, and Fortune smile upon you."


	4. Chapter 4

Melody was hardly recognizable under the thick layer of mud and dust covering her coat. Hard and heavy this year, the spring rains had hit Valdemar just as the Karsite war stumbled to a ragged close. After four years of fighting an official Holy War, the Heralds and the Army won a decisive battle at Dervish Pass and the Karsites had agreed to a reluctant truce. The Crown pared its forces down to basic Guard outcroppings and gave everyone else the much-appreciated order to march home.

Stefen had been one of the last to leave, singing away pain to the pattering accompaniment of rain for the many invalid soldiers stuck waiting for carts and stretchers home.

_It was good_, he thought as he urged Melody into a trot. _More than good._

Vanyel's words came back to him unbidden, _It's this need, Stefen._ He sighed. _Yes, Van, I feel it too, now. I must be part-Herald simply through knowing you!_

Lost in such meanderings, he barely noticed passing Haven's outer gate. Only the brief shine of a Guard's lamp in his eyes stirred him into croaking, "Stefen. I'm Bard Stefen."

The Guard smiled, showing a set of bright white teeth. "Bard Stefen! A regular camp hero, to hear them tell. The Heart of Valdemar, they're calling you!"

Managing a small smile, Stefen replied, "They call me lots of things." _And not all so kind. Being known as Herald Vanyel's lifebonded has brought me quite the double-sided fame. Who would have thought half the world would know I was _shaych?

"Eh," the Guardsman shrugged. "People say what they will. I've only ever heard tales of courage and strength. It's good to see your face alive and well—your camp came through a candlemark before ye, we were startin' to worry."

Exhaustion laced Stefen's reply, "I was sidetracked on the way home. Melody had a rock in her hoof."

"I better stop plaguin' ye with questions! Care to take a break or ye plowin' straight through?"

"Straight through," Stefen replied.

The guard nodded and gave a crisp salute. "Ye be off then, with my blessin'!" he said, clapping Melody on the rump.

_Sidetracked, Stefen? _He thought to himself with a bit of a laugh. _More like, deliberately let yourself be left behind. Fortunately Kevron and Andros knew you well enough not to harp on your safety._

He'd never expected to become so close to two Healers. Before, his good friends had always been in Bardic, although they'd never shared more than drink and laughter. After four years back and forth from the Karsite Border, pain-blocking and singing, he'd come to know most of Healer's Collegium.

Most people didn't know that about him, though. He was known for what took up far less of his time: the Patriot Cycle songs, as he liked to call them. A group of ballads extolling various Heraldic and Guardic deeds—songs about Valdemar involving research and careful observation with no hint of magic or Herald-mages.

With the strength of his Bardic gift and the power of his words, he could almost send the troops running into battle. He sighed at that unpleasant notion.

_Feeling guilty again, are we?_ An achingly familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. _It was nothing short of a miracle how you raised their spirits,_ ashke_. Reminded me of fighting the Shadow Master…_ The brief tendril of thought faded away, leaving Stefen wondering, yet again, if he wasn't a bit mad.

He looked up to see the Palace gate looming just ahead. A small page ran out a side door to take the reins of his horse.

Dismounting, he let the boy lead Melody away and stumbled out of the saddle into the warm, welcoming Palace corridor.

A familiar voice broke into his exhausted daze, "If it isn't the great Bard Stefen!"

Slowly, Stefen looked up to meet a set of warm brown eyes. "Medren!" he rasped, his voice still used from the border. "You're a welcome sight!"

"Two years since I saw you last, Stef, and look at the damage you've done to yourself! Hair a tangled mess, Scarlets dripping… you look half-mop, half-starvation victim!"

With a dry chuckle, Stefen replied, "That's about how I feel, too. Any chance you can scavenge me a cold dinner and a hot bath?"

"The bath's drawn and ready, Jisa had that done the second you set foot inside Palace walls," Medren said, glancing over at him once again as he weaved like a drunkard through the halls. "And I'll take care of dinner. Gods, Stef, you look utterly drained. I swear, you remind me of Uncle Van—" he stopped, cursing his tactlessness.

Stefen gave him a tired, but good-natured smile. "You can say his name, Medren, I won't break. I've made peace with my loss."

Looking into Stefen's eyes searchingly, Medren replied, "I suppose you have." _He looks like Uncle Van did, talking about 'Lendel._

"And you're right, I am turning into him," Stefen said, after a moment of silence. "I feel half-Herald, and half the small part of Bardic that actually enjoys work!"

Medren laughed heartily. "I hope it's not contagious!"

"Not yet," Stefen replied, grinning. "And with the Border cooling down, you're even less at risk of contagion."

Holding open the door to the Bathing chamber, Medren said solemnly, "We have you to thank in large part for that."

Stefen flushed as he peeled off his damp, ruined clothes. "There are many people to thank for that."

Turning to leave, Medren simply smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

Jisa and Treven were thoroughly enjoying their first break in months from council meetings and ambassador visits.

"Thank the Gods for Vanyel's treaty with Rethwellan," Treven murmured as Jisa stood above his chair and stroked his hair. "That mutual defense pact gave us just the edge we needed to win at Dervish."

"Yes," Jisa sighed, old sorrow in her voice. "Thank Havens for Van, right?"

Turning to look at her, Treven saw the pain in her eyes. "Still, Jisa?" he asked. "You mourn him still?"

"Always," she replied softly, stopping her ministrations to sit next to him on the sofa.

Treven gave her a searching look. "I never understood how close you were. Havens know I respected him more than anyone… but he was distant, hard to reach. The few times I had a real conversation with him, he gave me invaluable advice—yet he still frightened me. So powerful, so competent, so untouchable…" Treven trailed off, lost in distant memories.

Jisa's voice brought him back. "You have no idea how human he was. How incredibly warm and loving."  
>Treven started to speak, then paused at a thought. "Why were you so close to him, always? He was close to your parents, but so were others—Tantras, Joshe—why Vanyel? He doesn't seem like the type to seek out an uncle position willingly!"<p>

Silence hung in the air and Jisa's eyes grew unreadable.

"There's something you should know, Trev. Something I've wanted to tell you for a while—but I never knew quite how. Now.. .it's important. We'll have children soon, and I don't want the shadow of Randale's illness hanging over them."

_What does this have to do with Vanyel?_ Treven thought, bemused, as the silence lengthened between them.

Abruptly, she spoke. "Vanyel Ashkevron was my father."

He fell back in his chair. "But… he's _shaych_… your parents were lifebonded…" The implications overwhelmed him. "_Vanyel_ slept with _Shavri?_ That's... the strangest thing I could imagine, just about."

A smile twitched at Jisa's lips. "Apparently Mother wanted a child, and Father was sterile. So—she asked Vanyel. Trusted, a friend, and decidedly unlikely to become attached."

"Oh." Treven sat, thinking quietly for a moment, and his expression softened into something akin to sorrow. "Oh, love, all this time, and I never understood why you mourned him so deeply. "

_Enough, _Jisa thought, feeling melancholy threatening to drown another night together, _enough._

"I'm sick of mourning, Treven," she said.

Unsure of what she meant, he returned her steady gaze. She bent to fasten a deliberate kiss on his mouth that deepened into a lengthy embrace.

Pulling away, she spoke softly, "I want to celebrate life, my love."

Comprehension dawned on him and he stood to take her in his arms. "A baby," he whispered into her hair. "Oh, love, yes."


	6. Chapter 6

The peace with Karse lasted longer than anyone anticipated. Some Councilors thought the Sunpriests might be plotting a new war, but the King's network of spies brought back rumors of inner turmoil and popular revolution.

Such was the relatively peaceful state of affairs when Alara Findarion entered the world, a bundle of ash-blonde hair and silver eyes.

"Can I hold her?" Stefen asked tentatively. At twenty-five, his face looked more defined, somehow, his cheekbones starkly outlined by long waves of dark red hair. Slender still, he had lost that paper-thin quality he'd had upon returning from the Karsite border. He looked well, save the lingering sorrow in his hazel eyes.

Jisa smiled up at him from the plush armchair in her and Treven's private quarters. "Of course, Stef!"

Taking the baby gingerly from her mother, he cradled her head in his left hand. Alara opened her large eyes and giggled up at him. Mouth dropping open, he looked back to Jisa, who was chuckling.

Treven cleared his throat. "If her hair was black, people might start asking questions!"

Rocking the baby gently, Stefen gave Treven a long, slow smile. "If her hair was black, Trev, you'd have to worry about worse."

"Oh?" Treven asked, arching an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"The renown Bard Stefen seducing your daughter in a few years!"

Rolling his eyes, Treven muttered, "Renown in bawdy taverns across Exile's Gate."

All three of them laughed, and even Alara joined in, with the spontaneous giggle of infant joy.

"Thank you, Stefen," Treven said soberly, after a few minutes. "All these songs you've written… they do sing them in every tavern. I've heard of Garret's Fetching saving a village, Mari's Farsight winning a battle—and again, over and over, the love between the Crown, the Heralds, and the people. King and Country, I believe the most popular is called."

"Yes," Stefen sighed. "Over and over, again and again—King his country shall defend! Havens forefend I hear that lyric again!"

Unable to contain himself, Treven collapsed into laughter once more, causing the Guard at the door to cast an inquiring look inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Fifteen years later, Stefen remembered that scene with a wistful smile. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Medren was equally lost in reflection. They had journeyed together to Lineas-Baires to visit Tashir and were a few candlemarks away from Haven still.

"A penny for your thoughts, old friend," Stefen said, pulling his gray mare, a descendant of Melody's, closer to Medren's chestnut.

A twinkle in his eye, Medren met his gaze. "That even in her aged woolgathering state, Mother never forgets to remind me of my wifeless, childless life." Pausing, Medren straightened his back and mimed vivid hand gestures, " 'Oh Medren, is there any other… news…. from Haven?' 'Why no, Mother,'" he mock-replied, shrugging, then raised his voice once more, " 'No... lady friends?' He shrugged. 'Mother, I have many friends who are ladies! I live at Court nowadays!'"

Stefen laughed. "Oh, come off it, Medren! Your Mother's right to plague you. I've never known someone to run through as many "loves" as you—" he paused to hold up a finger to stave off Medren's inevitable reference to Stefen's own youthful adventures, "—at the normally respectable age of forty!"

"Hmph," Medren snorted. "Celibacy isn't healthy, either," he remarked, shooting a pointed look at Stefen.

"_I_ have good reasons for my behavior." He paused. "Plus, I'm not celibate."

Medren's eyes widened, "That's news to me!"

"Yes, well, there is value in discretion," Stefen replied serenely.

"WHO?" Medren exclaimed. "You must realize I'm bursting to know."

Chuckling, Stefen said, "I know. That was my intention."

Memory:

_He _had _been celibate for ten years after Vanyel's death. He hadn't even been able to consider another lover, especially not knowing that Vanyel waited for him in Sorrows. Certainly, it was difficult. There were occasional temptations, especially with his growing fame. But he couldn't countenance it—Vanyel was aware, out there, somewhere!_

_Gods, he missed the feeling of human touch, though._

_Jisa had asked him about it one evening, over a game of Hinds and Hounds. "I'm worried about you, Stef," she'd said, blunt as ever._

"_Why?"_

"_You need someone… something in your life besides work. Don't make the mistakes my father did. I _know_, I was here watching him go slowly mad in white linen, slowly more isolated from everyone and everything until you came along."_

_Stefen sighed and looked down. "Jisa, I can't imagine being with anyone else. I can't… it would be wrong, betraying Vanyel's memory."_

_And then, with a faraway look in her eye, Jisa sat silent for a moment.  
>"I know what he did, Stefen. I know he stayed on as a ghost, in Sorrows." She smiled at his shocked look. "Taver told me… only me. And one summer, alone, I made a pilgrimage up there. You were off on duty, somewhere. I felt something like a Call."<em>

"_Did you see him?" Stefen asked wonderingly._

"_Yes," she replied, eyes bright with tears. "But he said it's hard to materialize like that. And my hand slipped right through his—a cruelty, almost. A faint mirror of Vanyel alive."_

"_I know," Stefen said, voice breaking. "That's why I won't go back there."_

_Nodding, Jisa continued. "We spoke of that, and of you. Father said he knew you wouldn't, and most certainly shouldn't, come back to Sorrows. He said that he controlled little of when he could appear fully and that it cost him in energy." She paused. "But he wanted me to tell you something."_

_She took both Stefen's hands in hers. "He said, Don't let him become like I was. Don't let him be a statue. There is no betrayal in taking pleasure and comfort, when it comes. I would be a thousand times happier knowing Stefen had lovers, and the benefit of human touch, than knowing he bound himself in the frigid bonds of fidelity to a ghost."_

_Tears streaming down his face, Stefen shook his head. "I can't, Jisa. Don't you see? I can't, knowing he's there!"_

_Moving her hands to cup his face, she looked deep in his eyes. "One day, you will. And know that it's with his blessing."_

Medren's loud voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you really going to leave me wondering? Me, your oldest and dearest friend?"

Stefen simply smiled and urged his mare to a quick trot, leaving Medren groaning in frustration behind him.

_Memory. _

_A year after his conversation with Jisa, he had gone to k'Treva. Moondance had sent him a message—dropped in his chambers by hawk, no less—inviting him to Brightstar's wedding._

Hello, little one,

_It read._

Come celebrate love and life with us.

_Cryptic, but Stefen had known from an earlier letter. He had kept in touch with the Tayledras Adept over the past decade, sending messages every few years. _

_He penned a swift reply acquiescing and prepared for his long journey, using the map Moondance enclosed with the invitation. He'd been once before, but it wasn't an easy route to remember._

_The journey was long and somewhat arduous; fortunately Stefen was used to hardship, after Vanyel's trip North and the Karsite border. He arrived in a damp shivering state, causing Moondance and Starwind to curse themselves for not providing him with a Gate._

"_I _told_ you we should have set the spell!" Moondance reproached his lifebonded._

_Starwind simply shrugged. "Who knows what the results of that action would have been, ashke?" He helped Stefen dismount and led him inside the bounds of Voothrashayen. The Bard practically fell into Starwind's arms as the warmth spell hit him, relaxing his tight, shaking limbs._

_Starwind chuckled. "Not so fast, young one. There will be plenty of time for that later," he said mysteriously._

_Smiling, Moondance moved to support Stefen from the other side. "Indeed." They led him to the lower chamber of their ekele._

"_Where is everyone?" Stefen asked, confused. They hadn't seen a soul since entering._

"_Ah, well, this is the edge of the vale," Moondance replied. "And we didn't notify anyone of your arrival, save the Elders. We thought you might prefer it that way."_

_Nodding, Stefen replied. "Yes. But nobody?"  
>"Many more than normal are scouting. When we have a celebration, we like to make certain we will be undisturbed for a day or two." Starwind gestured at the bathing chamber, a small, natural hot spring within the ekele's lower chamber. "Here you are, young Stefen. We shall leave you to rest and recover."<br>Dazedly, Stefen looked around, marveling at the luxury. He had been here once before, but the exotic plants still dazzled him.  
>Moondance smiled. "Unless you require assistance undressing?"<br>Flushing, Stefen stood straighter and undid his cloak, letting it fall to the floor. "No, I think I can take it from here, thank you."_

_Moondance's smile only grew wider. "Certainly."_

_Over the two days before Brightstar's ceremony, the vale was in too much of a flurry to notice Stefen much, although he did meet a few of the groom's friends soaking in one of the communal pools. All of them were quite excited, claiming the bride was like a dyheli: swift, silent, and hard to catch._

"_Ah!" one of them mimed, clutching his heart. "I had hoped to be the one to lay claim to her fleeting heart!"_

"_Indeed," another man replied, raising an eyebrow. "Or perhaps her leaping hindquarters?"_

_Stefen laughed along wit the others and eyed the speaker. He was a bit younger, with still-black hair, long and thick. His eyes were blue, sparkling with mischief and intelligence. Winking at Stefen, he continued,_

"_I believe, in fact, that Lightspear sought the first ride!"  
>Uproarious laughter followed, with Lightspear joining in good-naturedly.<em>

"_I'll get you for that, Springhawk." _

_Afterward, Springhawk waited to speak with Stefen. "We are all much curious about you, outland brother! Starwind warned us not to pry, but I must confess, I cannot help myself! You were with Wingbrother Vanyel, is it not so?"_

_Feeling a familiar wrench in his heart, Stefen nodded, offering no words._

"_I do not mean to cause pain," Springhawk said, chagrined. "I only know what it is to love, and lose. Now, although it hurts, I enjoy speaking of my lost one, for it reminds me that his memory still lives in this world."_

_Stefen's heart gave a little leap at the "his"—_So I still have my instincts,_ he thought, a bit smugly. _He is shay'a'chern._ Noticing Springhawk's slight smile and roaming eyes, he smiled a bit, inwardly. _And attracted. But- I'm not ready.

"_Yes," Stefen replied. "It can be healing."_

_He paused. "So what do you wish to know of Vanyel?"_

_They spent hours conversing about life and love, as Springhawk walked with him and showed him different parts of the vale, before finally heading back to Starwind's _ekele.

"_Thank you, Stefen," Springhawk said, smiling with a tinge of sorrow. "It was a pleasure to speak of our lost ones."_

_Stefen returned the smile and clasped the other man's hand. "No, thank you, Springhawk. I think I found some of the healing you spoke of."_

_Glancing down at their clasped hands, Springhawk let Stefen's go and bent to kiss him lightly on the mouth. "Til tomorrow, then."_

_With that he left, leaving a newly thoughtful Stefen behind him._

_Moondance emerged from the ekele, grinning broadly. "Ah! I see you have met Springhawk. He is one of our finest scouts."_

"_He certainly manages to gather a lot of information," Stefen muttered._

_Laughing, Moondance threw an arm around Stefen's shoulders. "Come, young one. Starwind wishes to dine with us."_

_Dinner with Starwind proved to be an interesting and educational discussion of reborn spirits, one that made Stefen most uneasy. The conversation went on for some time before Starwind brought up a subject of great personal interest. _

"_I assume you know that Vanyel lives on in spirit form," Starwind said carefully._

"_Yes," Stefen replied. "I've seen him."_

_Raising his eyebrows, Starwind replied, "Indeed! He must have retained great power for such a thing to be possible." He paused. "I wonder if…"_

"_No," Moondance said sharply. "We will not try to see our lost friend, nor commune with him. He is gone from us for this lifetime, and that is a fact we must all accept until our own time comes."_

_His words reminded Stefen of Jisa's: _fidelity to a ghost._ Stefen sighed and looked at Moondance_

"_But it's hard to feel as if he's truly gone when I know he's there, somewhere, watching." He fidgeted with a piece of orange. "I feel as though he is alive in some sense."_

_Meeting his gaze, Moondance shook his head, "Young Stefen, you cannot treat Vanyel's ghost this way. You will not be able to live the rest of your many, many years in such a state."_

_A bit angrily, Stefen replied, "In what state? What do you know of how I live?" He paused. "I have not sat around mourning Vanyel's memory incessantly, mooning over my loss. I have been to Karse, I have been to all corners of Valdemar. I have been a friend to Jisa and to her newborn children—"_

_Starwind held up a hand. "Forgive us, Stefen. We know you have accomplished much. But it is as Vanyel accomplished much after Tylendel's death—you remain in hidden, constant mourning."_

"_And?" Stefen asked, defeated. "Would you not do the same?"_

"_I might," Starwind said, looking at Moondance with impossible love and affection. "But I know that I would likely seek some physical comfort. We are not made to endure as stone, hard and unyielding."_

_Silence hung in the air as Stefen pondered Starwind's words. _

"_Come," Moondance said abruptly, breaking the spell. He reached out a hand to Stefen. "I would show you that all that is comfort is not a bad thing, nor betrayal."_

_Stefen looked hesitatingly at Starwind, serenely composed as always, then down at his plate. _I'm not sure about this.

_Smiling, Moondance said, "Oh, come, young one. Trust, as Vanyel did."_

_Moondance led him up to a room with a plush bed. Stefen stood in the doorway, confused. _Is this their bedchamber?

_Turning to face Stefen, Moondance caught the Bard's face in both hands and kissed his lips. Stefen stepped back, feeling more flushed than ever._

_Moondance simply smiled. "I am a Healer, Bard Stefen. You are sorely in need of Healing."  
>"But—Starwind—"<em>

_A voice spoke from behind Stefen. "I, too, believe in Healing." Stefen turned to face Starwind's beautiful, impassive face. Starwind reached down to undo the laces on Stefen's tunic and slowly remove it._

"_This," he gestured to the Bard's bare torso, "is your link to the physical world, young one."_

_Placing a hand on Stefen's heart, he continued, "And this is what you have saved for Vanyel, what will only ever be his. Do you see?"_

_Breathing quickening as Moondance laid warm hands on his back, Stefen replied, "Yes. I see."_

"_Good," Starwind replied, smiling. "Then I leave you in the hands of this very capable Healer."_

_Moondance gently turned Stefen to face him and smiled. "Do not be afraid, ke'chara. We healed Vanyel in much the same way, many years ago."_

Take what is offered, ashke,_ Stefen heard inside his head, that oh-so-familiar voice. _Comfort, and love, of a sort.

_Bending his head, Moondance touched his lips to Stefen's. The kiss deepened and Stefen relaxed into Moondance's gentle hands._

_Slowly, Moondance drew the rest of Stefen's clothing from his body, continuing to shower him with gentle kisses and affection._

Oh Gods, _Stefen thought, heartbeat quickening, _It's been so long since anyone's touched me. This- feels- so good, it can't be wrong.

_Drawing Stefen onto the bed, Moondance trailed kisses down his body, his long, silver hair shadowing his face._

_Hesitatingly, Stefen touched a strand of it—so like Vanyel's. He felt a sharp pain of loss amidst the pleasure, causing Moondance to pause._

"_Shh, ke'chara," he murmured, stroking Stefen's hair away from his face. "Let the memories be absent tonight."_


	8. Chapter 8

*Stefen remembers his time in the Vale, continued... *

"_Feel better?" the Tayledras asked, moving up to take Stefen in his arms._

"_Yes," Stefen replied honestly, turning to face the older man. "Thank you," he said, cupping Moondance's face and kissing him softly on the lips. _

_Moondance pressed a kiss to Stefen's forehead then rose fluidly from the bed. He held out his hand to Stefen, like earlier. "Come, young one. Bathe and rest."_

_After Moondance's Healing, Stefen had stayed two weeks in the Vale. The wedding had been a great success and that night he'd found himself in Springhawk's arms. They'd pursued a brief, but enjoyable relationship. Springhawk's expectations mirrored his own: physical release, companionship, and no lasting promises._

Medren had caught up to him. "You would just leave me in the dark, wouldn't you?"

Stefen's voice shook with barely suppressed mirth. "All right, all right, I surrender to your relentless curiosity." He paused dramatically and struck a pose. "The name you are seeking is…"

"Out with it!" Medren cried, chucking an apple core at him.

"No one you know," Stefen said simply. "A _Tayledras_ scout. A few others, never at Haven. There's too much talk."

Curiosity satisfied, Medren leaned back in his saddle. "_Tayledras, _eh? I've always wondered what you did at the Vales."  
>Stefen snorted. "More than rutting!" He began humming an unusual tune and Medren cocked his head, listening.<p>

"Yes, music, dunce. I learn new music, new strands of song." He hummed a bit more. "That's part of why they allow me to visit so frequently."

"Once every two years is _frequent?_" Medren asked.

"For an outsider who has never been named Wingbrother, yes," Stefen replied. "It's a complicated culture, and one I'll never fully understand. They do make great music, though."

Medren shook his head. "Treesa remembers the younger one- Moonsong? Moondance?—as an angel still. Her savior, she called him."

Laughing, Stefen replied, "Medren, if there's one thing I can tell you with a great deal of certainty, it's that Moondance is not an angel."

"Well, at any rate, I'm glad to hear you're not turning into a statue," Medren replied.

"No, that was Vanyel's specialty," Stefen said with a slight smile. "I was always the randier one."

"I don't doubt it," Medren replied dryly.

"Not that I can hold a candle to you these days." Stefen held out both hands then shook his head. "No, I'd need ten batches of hands and more toes, too, to make the count!"

"Oh, that's absurd!" Smiling slowly, Medren continued, "Ten batches of hands wouldn't even cover my time at Forst Reach."

Stefen merely sighed and raised his hands skyward.


	9. Chapter 9

The rest of the journey passed quickly amidst their banter and Stefen entered Haven with a light heart. Medren always had that effect on him.

Munching on a still-warm meat pie, Stefen eyed the short stack of mail awaiting him. On top, a note with the royal seal:

"Bard Stefen, please attend Court upon your earliest convenience for a full, official report." He groaned aloud. Full report, full Scarlets… he'd been so looking forward to a night's rest.

Taking another bite of his dinner, he opened the second letter:

"Trev's a beast with a terrible sense of humor.

We expected you last night, love! Do stop by."

-Jisa

Chuckling, he breathed a sigh of relief and opened the last few, various party invitations, then—

"Stefen, you rat, you ran off to Lineas-Baires without a word to me?

I'll have your neck next time you don't stop by to say hello to an old warhorse."

-Lissa Ashkevron

He tensed all over and rubbed his eyes. Yes, he'd been avoiding Lissa, intentionally. After Vanyel's death, they'd been close—he'd met her at the funeral and they'd shared memories over her stay at Haven. He'd enjoyed her frank company, but seeing her hurt, a lot. More than seeing WIthen and Treesa, before they'd passed on, who always were kind yet distant. Lissa seemed to understand his pain in its entirety. Rather than a burden shared, though, it was a burden doubled. _She reminds me of him- too much._

He mulled over his reaction while finishing his wine then pulled on a soft gray tunic to head over to the royal quarters.

"Did you choose the tunic to match your hair, Stef?" Jisa teased as she greeted him with a quick, warm hug.

He fingered a lock of his wild, half-red, half-gray hair, then smiled. "Nay, my lady," he jested back. "I always strive to match my Queen's lovely locks."

The laugh lines around her eyes deepened as Treven moved to embrace him with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Stop insulting my lady wife," he growled, "Or I'll have you singing even higher than you do now."

"How was your trip?" Jisa asked, aiming a half-hearted swat at her husband.

"Uneventful. Tashir has everything well under control in his particular Border kingdom. Although…" he trailed off, remembering a strong undercurrent of pro-Heraldic sentiment.

"Yes?" Jisa said.

"I have a feeling they might ask for annexation. Perhaps not in Tashir's time, but having a Herald as their ruler has made them singularly open to Valdemar's way of rule. They don't want to find themselves with another despot after Tashir leaves, and the only way to ensure that is—"  
>"Unbroken succession of Heralds. The Valdemaran way," Treven replied slowly, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "But are there no true patriots? The last thing we want is to foment civil war in our most peaceful neighbor."<p>

"I may have sang some songs," Stefen said with a cough. "Most dissenters seemed to take a—less violent—view of annexation after my performances." He paused. "Medren was surprisingly helpful."

Jisa looked worried. "Stef—you two didn't—create any opinions, did you? Annexation is as much a burden as a profit; we would as soon Lineas-Baires made its own choice."

He gifted her with a sweet, sad smile. "Ah, Jisa, I had my morals formed long ago, and by a most rigid code."

Her expression softened. "Of course."

"No, I didn't create this idea, it was firmly ingrained," he continued. "But some reckless youths seemed to imagine a sort of glory in violent political warfare, and I calmed some of that fervor." He shifted in his chair. "Not to say there won't be issues, still, and some potential violence. In the long run, though, this is a far better solution for Valdemar as well: who's to say some petty lordling tyrant won't take control of our vassal-state and cause us no end of headaches? Best to annex now, while the people are willing and more sympathetic to Heralds than ever."

Treven was nodding along to Stefen's words. "I agree. I've considered it for some time—Tashir and I have been exchanging ideas for how best to present it to his people. We'll bring it up at Council tomorrow."

A light knock sounded on the door. "Ah!" Treven said. "I believe a certain fifteen-year-old Bardic trainee is absolutely dying to see her Uncle Stefen!"

"Uncle," he muttered to Jisa. "Grandfather would be more accurate? If we're following the actual relationship."

"Grandpa Stefen?" she returned, stifling a laugh. "It does have a nice ring to it, no?"

Stefen's entire face lit up as Jisa opened the door to let in a willowy girl whose face was partially hidden by a shroud of white blonde hair.

"Alara!" he exclaimed, crossing the room in two giant steps to give her a hearty kiss on the cheek. She pushed her heavy hair out of her face to smile at him with—_Good Gods—_Vanyel's face.

His voice caught in his throat and she took a step back at his dumbfounded expression.

"I heard you were back," she said uncertainly, "I wanted to say hello—"

"Of course, sweetling!" he said, catching himself and giving her a winning smile. "I'm thrilled you came by."

_Her lips are fuller, her eyebrows lighter and more curved, but Gods, she is his spitting image. I wonder if there's been talk… but then, nobody really _saw_ Van, they saw black hair and a white uniform. Her being blonde and a woman must be enough._

"There's another reason," she said, gaining back a bit of her natural confidence. "I'm having a recital tomorrow night—they're going to decide if I'm ready for my Journeyman trial. Not until next year, of course, but the Circle is coming to listen tomorrow." Her eyes looked pleadingly at him. "Would you—would you come?"

_As if I could say no to that look in that face. Besides, what I wouldn't have done to have a friendly face in the room for _my _trial._

"I would be honored to come," he replied gravely. Then, with a hint of smile, "I wouldn't miss it for a thousand Court meetings!"

"A dubious compliment," Treven said wryly, smiling at his eldest daughter. "I'd go to a thousand recitals to miss one Court meeting!"

"Alas, duty claims us as it does not Bard Stefen, despite his rumored Heraldic tendencies," Jisa sighed. "And we have to welcome that delegation from the South border tomorrow."

Just then, a page entered with a note for Treven. Reading it, he rolled his eyes. "It seems that duty would claim us now, even at this late hour."

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then, Alara," Stefen said, backing out of the room with an exaggerated, ostentatious bow to the royal family, "My Gracious Queen, My Stalwart King, I bid thee good night!"

Jisa chucked a pillow at him. "Get out of here, you ridiculous Bard."


	10. Chapter 10

Alara's chosen instrument was the seven-string gittern. Her hair was tied back from her face with a red silk handkerchief, throwing her cheekbones into stark relief in the dim light. She tuned the strings lovingly, with long, slender fingers and a concentrated look.

Stefen had come late to avoid being seen; the older Bards were mostly teachers he saw regularly and the Circle, who he had more than enough contact with. The younger generation tended to treat him with an awkward deference he found entirely unnerving. _Vanyel must have felt that way, only multiplied a thousand fold. I can't imagine._

When he entered, she looked up, meeting his eyes long enough for him to wink briefly at her. Then the Head of the Circle, an older man named Hedron, gave Alara a nod and the song began.

He let out a soft gasp as she found his face and sang the opening chord.

It was his song, written after his return from Sorrows, and his first great success. Magic's Price had brought his name into certain musical circles, but was more sung for the tale than the music. This song was one of love, and loss, and learning to live again. Her clear, vibrant soprano carried the notes of Stefen's soul-wrenching journey across the crowd, bringing it back to leave.

He felt tears stinging his eyes and didn't bother to brush them away, content to feel the beauty of the moment. The last lines felt like they would rip his heart out of his chest.

"And as I know this pain will never lessen, never lift,

So I know that teaching me to love and live was your great gift."

Mute, the audience sat wiping their eyes. In a swift movement, Stefen drew himself from the shadows in the corner and began to clap loudly. The other students and Bards followed his cure. Setting her gittern down, Alara stood to give a slight curtsy, first to the Circle sitting to her left, then to the room. Her eyes, though, never left Stefen.

Hedron cleared his throat and looked at the Circle members, many who were still damp-eyed. "I think I can safely clear you to Journeyman, Alara. That was—quite a performance."

A huge white smile lit up her normally serious face. "Thank you, Bard Hedron! Although I think the greatest credit goes to the author, Bard Stefen."

Holding up a finger, Hedron said, "I think even he would agree that was one of the finest performances of his song." Stepping up to the stage, he helped her pack her instrument and motioned for the next performer.

The next few performances passed in a blur, none remarkably good or bad, save the last one, a pupil of Medren's, who was actually pretty good.

Alara found him after the performance, shyly wringing her hands. "Uncle Stef, I hope it's okay—the song spoke to me, but I know it's about—painful things for you—"

He silenced her with an embrace, pulling her close. "I've never even sung it that well, love," he said, voice still shaky. "Thank you. You made him—us—alive again."

She pulled away and searched his face for a minute before flashing another brilliant smile. "You're welcome, of course." Pausing, she spoke softly, "I wish—I wish I could've known him."

"Oh, Alara," he said, "You would have loved him."

A loud exclamation from Hedren broke the moment. "Bard Stefen! In the flesh! We haven't had you here for us at Haven in two years." He looked at Alara. "All we get are renditions of your songs, and few so masterful as tonight."

"I am a bit of a vagabond, I confess," Stefen said good-naturedly. "Long stays at Haven tend to be dull and fraught with unwelcome memories."

"Indeed," Hedron replied, laying a friendly hand on Stefen's shoulder. "I understand. But we may have need of you, soon. Bardic's been turning out more Journeymen than I can remember, and they need to be accompanied on their trials."

"Mmm," Stefen replied non-committally. "You are turning out wonderfully talented Journeymen!" He smiled at Alara, who blushed.

"The finest thing in Bardic since a certain wild-haired street urchin!" Hedron exclaimed, clapping Stefen on the back.

With a wry chuckle, Stefen said, "A long gone urchin."

An awkward pause followed. Hedron's tone grew grave and sympathetic, "Well, Bard Stefen, none of us can begin to comprehend life's twists of cruelty and loss. But perhaps being here at Haven will be easier than you think."

"Perhaps," Stefen replied softly. "But I doubt it."

With that, he bid Alara and Hedron goodnight. _Off to find my cold, lonely bed,_ he thought, a bit bitterly.

_Feeling sorry for yourself, _ashke? That familiar, but long-absent voice asked, shaded with sympathy.

_Very,_ Stefen thought back sourly. A rush of love flowed back at him.

_I am always with you, Stefen. I will always wait for you. You have almost earned your place..._

He looked out the window, over the flickering candle, to the twinkle of night stars. _Thank you, Vanyel-ashke.  
><em>


End file.
